


Feline Behaviour

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Castle, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, cat!belle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Belle’s behaviour begins to change after a few months in the Dark Castle and Rumple can’t work out why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I read @rumple-belle (rowofstars) Sunlight (fabulous piece of smut) and got an idea stuck in my head. Then this happened. Not exactly sure where this is going, but knowing me there’s a fair chance we’ll end up with smut.

Rumple wasn’t at all surprised that his little caretaker changed during her first few months in the Dark Castle. He’d been expecting nothing less, he’d taken a darling daughter, a spoiled court lady, and forced her into the role of servant. Change was inevitable, but apart from the initial sobbing and shaking she had become stoic in the face of his beastly nature. He would never tell her, but he respected her for that; he knew how a soul could crumble in the face of an impossible situation.

He might not have voiced his respect for her, but it snuck to the surface in other ways. He began to indulge her curiosity about his collection, to share a cup of tea with her. Little things that he told himself were only happening because of the novelty of company in his home.

The real changes in Belle had started after she’d flooded his castle with light by tearing down the curtains. He caught the silly girl as she tumbled from the ladder, because a caretaker splattered on the flagstones was no use at all. He opened the rest of the curtains himself after that in case she took it into her head to try and best the ladder again.

It took him a few days to notice how the shafts of sunlight pouring through the now clean windows attracted her. She would linger in the warmth and light, sweeping the same section of floor again and again. He considered this new behaviour while he was spinning, and decided that she simply missed the sunnier clime of her homeland. The dark Castle wasn’t in the coldest part of the realm, but it was chiller than Avonlea. Yes, it was simple a craving for familiar warmth, which also explained why she would drag her chair as close as possible to the fire of an evening, and why several of the spare blankets have disappeared from the linen cupboard. Odd that she’d only started feeling the chill as the winter was becoming spring, but taking the curtains down was probably letting more draughts flow through the castle. He made a note to himself to keep an eye out for her closing the curtains, it would be fun to say I told you so dearie.

The next odd thing he noticed was the sniffing. When he first heard it, he thought she might be coming down with a cold, but when he looked she was inhaling the scent of the book she was reading. He dismissed it; the scent of books was enticing, comforting even. She didn’t limit this new obsession with scent to books, he found her with her nose buried in the fresh laundry. Even food and drink were subjected to a sniff or two before she would consume it. Did she worry that he would try to poison her? She couldn’t be checking to see if it was spoiled, she must have realised by now that his magic kept food fresh?

The first time she’d leaned into him and sniffed his hair, he’d been so surprised he’d not even thought to snarl at her. She’d hummed to herself and strolled away with a small smile on her lips, as if her action was perfectly normal. He’d made sure she was out of the room before he pulled a lock of his hair under his nose and given it a sniff. He didn’t smell any different from usual, he couldn’t imagine why the smell of his hair had put a smile on her face.

In conjunction with her smelling of anything and everything came the touching. His person was the main focus of this new trait, a brief touch of his arm as she moved by him about her chores became a lingering touch on his shoulder as he sat spinning. Not long after that she would simply sit next to him on the bench, edging closer until she was leaning against him. The level of her touches increased when he had been out of the castle for a while, as if she was reassuring herself that he was truly back. She’d begun to go as far as rubbing her head against his shoulder. He found himself wondering if he had been duped into taking an enchanted cat as his price, and now the spell was wearing off.

Rumple was convinced that Belle was a transfigured cat when he returned to the castle after spending the day with Regina. He strolled into the great hall and found her lounging on the table, basking in a shaft of sunlight. She stretched as he entered and grinned at him. The smile of welcome fell from her face as he got closer and she inhaled.

“You’ve been with her.”

The tone in which she spat the accusation at him stopped him in his tracks.

“Yes, dearie, I’ve been with Regina, what of it?”

She hissed at him and leapt from the table. She was on him in an instant and clawed the dragonhide coat from his shoulders. His shock rendered him immobile, until she wrapped her arms around him and began rubbing her face against his chest.

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed her shoulders and tried to push her away, but she dug her fingernails into his back. He winced as they bit into him through his shirt. When had her nails gotten so long?

“I hate it when you smell of her. You should smell of home.”

He stopped trying to untangle himself from her embrace. Home? She thought of this place, his castle, as home? His brain stammered to a halt, allowing her to continue caressing him. It was strangely comforting to have her nails dug into his back occasionally, and her hair tickle his nose as she moved. He was so lost in the sensations that he dipped his head and brushed his nose against her hair. She shifted and inhaled deeply at the crook of his neck.

“Humm. That’s better.”

He almost staggered forward as she pulled away and gave him a smile.

“I’ll go and make some tea.”

He watched as she stepped around his fallen coat, and was certain he heard her hiss at it, before she skipped away to the kitchen. Rumple stood for a moment rubbing his thumb over his fingers. Yes, he’d traded for a fine lady and ended up with a cat in human form. Oddly he didn’t feel cheated, after all for all her quirks Belle made a wonderful cup of tea.


	2. Chapter 2

“You could just ask you know?”

Rumple didn’t look up from his spinning, the wheel creaking slowly and steadily as the raw wool turned to yarn through the skill of his fingers.

“Hum? Ask what, dearie?”

His little maid was lounging in front of the fire, on the thick rug he’d picked up on one of his deals. That was a lie, he’d woven it for her himself, just to refresh his rusty skills, no other reason. He heard the rustle of paper as she turned another page of her book and wondered if she had been speaking to the characters rather than him. Belle did tend to get lost in whatever world of ink and paper she was currently devouring. It was a good thing his magic could take care of the cleaning, because since showing Belle the library she’d not been as attentive in her dusting duties. He didn’t mind to much, although he was considering conjuring some giant dust bunnies just to tease her about.

“I know you’ve been doing research. Wouldn’t it be easier to question the source directly?”

Rumple stilled the wheel and looked over at her. She was still gazing at the pages of her book, but he could tell that her focus was no longer on the romantic drivel of the story, there was a sly smirk on her lips. He had been researching her feline nature. He’d dabbled with transfiguration spells in the past, but wasn’t an expert on them. For example, he didn’t know how long the transfiguration would hold for a sentient being, it wasn’t really a necessity when most of the time the people he turned into snails ended up crushed under his boot within seconds. Turning sentient beings into non-sentient ones was easy, he glanced at the rose in the vase on the table, in that particular case it was even easier since the lumbering brute of a former fiancé wasn’t all that sentient to begin with; the only trick there was making sure whats-his-name had ended up as something pretty, not the pond slime that had been the magic’s first instinct for him. He also didn’t know how long Belle would remain as a human, her feline tendencies were becoming more prominent, and he didn’t want to end up with a cat, who couldn’t make tea, or bake.

“You’ve been looking in the wrong place. I’m not a transfigured cat, Rumple.”

He stood up and took a few slow steps toward her. She was very keen on her personal space when she was reading. He’d made the mistake of getting to close once and been clawed for his trouble. The leather of his waistcoat had deflected the force of her warning swipe across his chest, and even if it hadn’t, it was like she could do any lasting damage to him. He understood her desire for space, they had that in common, which is probably why he’d reacted in the same way as when she got to close to him when he wasn’t in the mood for company, and snarled at her before vanishing up to his tower instead of cursing her into a puddle as he would have with anyone else foolish enough to dare to attack him. Now he waited with his head tilted to one side until she closed the book and raised her eyes to his face. Safety assured he dropped on to the couch and gave her a wide grin; “So, dearie, do tell me where I’ve gone wrong in researching my little maid.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at him for so long that he might have thought she was about to attack, if she’d not been biting her bottom lip; that was a thinking habit of hers that he found rather distracting.

“Nothing I tell you will change our deal will it?”

He snorted and jabbed a finger at her; “Thinking I’ll let you toddle off to your freedom, are you? Not going to happen, dearie, my deals are never broken.”

Belle glared at him; “Good, so that means that Avonlea will still be free from the ogres, since you won’t break your side of the deal either, will you?”

Rumple gapped at her for an instant, before closing his mouth with a snap of teeth. Ooh, she was smart as a whip this one. He clapped his hands together and gave a tittering giggle; “Of course. I will stand by my side of the deal, forever as promised.”

He didn’t mention that if what she imparted to him displeased him there were a few handy loopholes he could exploit to satisfy any urge he might have to balance the score. There was an odd glint in Belle’s eyes that suggested she knew exactly what he was thinking and was already coming up with counter-measures. Good, it would be fun to banter with someone who understood the nuances of a finely worded contract.

Belle squared her shoulders and jutted her chin forward slightly, there was the perfectly defiant little princess who had declared than none but her would decided her fate.

“I’m not a transfigured cat. I’m a daughter of Bast.”

Rumple leaned forward intrigued; “Not directly you’re not. The clerics of Avonlea would never allow, erm…”

She huffed and finished his indelicate sentence; “Allow an abomination to be part of the ruling family. No, they wouldn’t, unless it was a huge benefit to them, which the gold and shipwrights my grandmother brought as dowry were.”

Rumple sat back and tried to recall what he knew about Avonlea. It wasn’t much. The clerics had been the power behind the throne for almost the entire two centuries since the little kingdom had been carved out of the dying remains of several duchies after a rather nasty sibling rivalry turned war, (that he knew plenty about). The puritanical religious order would have no dealings with the Dark One. He’d known about the desperate plight of the little kingdom, it was hard to miss a scent that reeking, but he’d never expected the call for his assistance. Considering it now, Belle’s revelation did explain why only her father and whats-his-face had protested his price. The clerics would be delighted at getting shot of a daughter of Bast, no matter how thinned the blood was by now. At that thought he cocked his head to one side.

“Your grandmother didn’t stop practising her faith, did she?”

Belle giggled at him; “No, not entirely. My mother and I would not be considered full daughters of Bast, but we have the blood and enough knowledge to retain the features and characteristics. We just got very good at hiding them in company.”

Rumple pressed his hand to his chest and gasped dramatically; “And I am not company, dearie?”

“Of course, you are, but I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind if I was more myself.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that; the idea that she was comfortable enough in his company to be herself, her true self was more of a puzzle to him then her calling the Dark Castle home. It wasn’t an uncomfortable idea, but one he had long thought that he would never be a part of again, at least not yet, not until the Curse was cast. He waved a hand idly at her to belie the confusion in his mind.

“Tis no matter to me, dearie, just let me know if there is anything specific you require.”

With that he jumped to his feet and wandered out of the room. Belle sagged with relief, that had gone much better than she had expected. She’d been surprised when she’d seen the scrolls and books laid out on his workbench. Since he had named her as his price for the safety of her kingdom she had assumed that her knew of her heritage, but apparently not. Her assumption had caused her to let her guard down and relax into the traits of her nature, it was far to late to brush her behaviour off as some sort of homesickness, so she’d decided to grab the bull by the horns and be honest with him. Avonlea was still safe from the ogres at least, and apparently, she was in no danger of being turned into a snail, (she wasn’t even sure that Rumple’s favourite way of disposing of annoyances would work on her).

She rolled on to her front and opened her book again. Fate might have offered a choice that looked like she was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea, but she had chosen her path and she was content.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle had been keeping a careful eye on the moon since she had come to the Dark Castle. Since her talk with Rumple about her true nature she wasn’t too worried about the coming festival, but she did have to warn him about the changes that would occur during the three days. She chuckled to herself, no matter how distracted he was with his spinning or potions he’d probably notice that his maid had sprouted fur and a tail. Probably; it was best that she warn him, so he didn’t get himself worked up in to a tizzy thinking that she’d been careless with his collection.

She just wasn’t sure how to tell him. Her mother and grandmother had raised her to keep her nature hidden, and although she had told Rumple in general terms what she was, this was different. In Avonlea at this time of year she would be secluded with her mother and the families of the ladies that had accompanied her grandmother when she married. They celebrated together in the privacy of a cabin on the edge of the city. It was a secret time for them, one they did not speak of even between themselves. That level of ingrained secrecy was hard to overcome.

The clerics had tried a few times to have their gathering stopped, but they had been restricted by the secrecy that surrounded her grandmother’s marriage contract. Rumple would appreciate the binding nature of that arrangement, she wondered if he could get the original from the vault at home? Belle shook her head, it was no good distracting herself with frivolous thoughts, she needed to tell him what was going to happen.

 

In the end it was a book that helped Belle. She’d found it in the library, and one chapter perfectly described the festival and the changes that the children of Bast would undergo during that time. She marked the relevant chapter and placed it on the tray with Rumple’s afternoon tea. It wasn’t the bravest way to inform him, but she felt that she’d not broken the rules of her family by telling him this way, after all the book was in his library, he could have read it at any point, she’d just brought it to his attention.

She knew he had read the book because he was twitchier than normal at dinner. She’d become used to his quirks and waited while he gathered his thoughts.

“So, you’re going to become a cat-person for three days?”

It wasn’t the most elegant wording she’d even heard from him, but it was to the point. She finished her mouthful of food and dapped her lips with her napkin.

“Yes, I am.”

“Hum. Will you need privacy? I could leave for the duration, always deals to be made.”

Belle had considered this; the festival was a private event in Avonlea because of the clerics, but it had never been so closed in her grandmother’s homeland. Apart from a few ritual elements there was no reason that she couldn’t spend it with Rumple.

“No, there’s no need for you to leave. In fact, I’d rather you stayed. I’ve never been alone for the festival before. You could share in the celebration with me.”

He tilted his head and fixed her with a curious look; she had the distinct impression that he had a dozen questions to ask but was holding his tongue for now. He finally gave a curt nod; “Very well, but I warn you, dearie, the Dark One does not sing.”

She laughed at that, “That’s fine, you don’t have to join in with the singing.”

 

Rumple had been a little distracted in the days before Belle’s festival. King George’s son had gone and got himself killed, thankfully he had a spare waiting in the wings, but the whole process of getting the shepherd in place had been time consuming. He grinned to himself, it had been very satisfying irritating George, and at least he now knew why his visions had insisted on the twins for this part of his plan.

He strolled into the castle at dusk, looking forward to a cup of tea and maybe a cake or two. A low growl caused his steps to falter, and the hair on the back of his neck to rise up.

“Rrrumple.”

The purring roll of his name sent shivers down his spine. He turned slowly on his toes and found Belle perched on the banister, how the hell had he not seen her when he came in? She was covered head to toe in chestnut fur, her normally blue eyes were now an amber to rival his own, and she had a tail which was flicking in the air behind her. She was breath-taking.

“Belle.”

She leapt from the banister and lightly dropped to the floor. As she uncurled to stand up Rumple realized that she was naked. True she was covered in fur, and cats weren’t known for wearing clothes, but still this was Belle without a stitch on. He lowered his eyes to his boots.

“I see your festival has started. Good, good, I’ll erm, I’ll just…”

A pair of furred feet entered his line of sight. He was interested notice that Belle’s claws were a creamy ivory and looked viciously sharp. She was so close to him, but before he could back away she had wrapped herself around him. Without any intervention from his brain, his hands came to rest lightly on her back. Gods, she was so warm and soft.

“Rumple, you smell perfect.”

He jumped in her arms as something firm stroked across his backside. Glancing over his shoulder he found Belle’s tail was wrapped around his hip caressing his arse. He was used to her affectionate moods, but this felt very different, this felt more like a prelude to … No! It couldn’t … Belle couldn’t want that … not from him. She purred as she rubbed her stomach against his hips. Oh Gods! This was exactly what he thought it was!

Rumple twisted out of Belle’s embrace and stumbled sideways from her. Belle pouted and advanced on him again. For every step back, he took she took one forward.

“What are you doing, Belle?”

“Greeting my mate.”

“What?”

He would deny for all eternity the way that question escaped his lips as a high-pitched squeak. His back bumped into the wall and Belle lunged forward, her hands braced on the stone on either side of his shoulders.

“My mate, Rumple. Mine.”

He desperately tried to recall what the book had said about this festival; according to the text it was all joy, music, and chasing mice. There had been nothing about mating. Oh, unless; “The book was for children.”

Belle rubbed her face against his chest; “Yes, for kits. I’m not a kit anymore Rumple.”

Her fur was tickling the bare skin of his throat. Oh, that felt so nice. No, no, he couldn’t let himself get lost in the sensation. Belle was fixing on him because he was the only other person here, she had no other choice. He was a beast, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her just because her instincts were driving her to this. He squirmed his neck away from her touch.

“Belle. Belle, you don’t need to do this. I can find you more children of Bast. You can celebrate with them.”

He could do that for her, he’d played matchmaker before now, of course he normally had more time to organize matters, but needs must.

Belle hissed in his ear; “Don’t want anyone else. Want my mate. My Rumple.”

Her tail snaked around his leg, the tip nudging along his inner thigh. He closed his eyes; “I’m sorry Belle.”

The cloud of magic that deposited him in his tower hadn’t cleared before he heard Belle’s first plaintive yowl. He snarled and slammed his fist into the workbench again and again until his skin split. He felt like a coward, but he’d done the right thing. Belle might not thank him for running away from her at the moment, but she would see the sense of his retreat come the end of the festival. He watched blood drip across his scaled skin and drop from his blacken claws onto the wood of the workbench. He’d done the right thing. No one could desire a beast.


End file.
